


December 7th: Snowflake

by IneffableToreshi



Series: Good Omens Advent Calendar 2019 [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Advent Calendar, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Ineffable Advent, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Snow, Snow Day, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:01:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21663346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableToreshi/pseuds/IneffableToreshi
Summary: This is Day 7 of my Good Omens Advent Calendar for 2019, in which Aziraphale can't find his demon for some snow day snuggles.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Advent Calendar 2019 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550176
Comments: 22
Kudos: 98





	December 7th: Snowflake

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays everyone! I hope you enjoy my Good Omens Advent Calendar! Consider it my Christmas gift to the fandom! And if you want to give me a gift in return, please leave me a comment (I live for them!) and if you're really awesome check out my other stuff by going to my blog over at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com! <3

Once the snow began it didn't seem intent to stop. Through the night and well into the following morning the large, fluffy flakes fell. Aziraphale stood at the front of the bookshop, peering through the small bits of window that were still clear as a plow took it's fourth trip up the road. A few fellow shopkeepers had ventured outside to attempt a clearing of their respective walkways, but the majority of Soho seemed to have decided that it was a perfectly fine day to stay inside. The book-hoarding angel was one of these for certain. He had a roaring fire going in the hearth in the back room and a perfectly steeped tea in his hands, and he had absolutely no intentions today of either venturing outside nor allowing wet, snow-covered humans inside near his precious books. 

A quick miracle shifted a sleeping stray cat out of the path of the rampaging plow and into the back porch of the lovely woman down the street who handmade specially formulated pet food, and then the perfectly satisfied angel made his way back toward his lovely fire.

The back room was the perfect temperature for a chilly snow day. The angel set his tea down on a side table and picked up the book he'd been reading before sinking with a sigh into his favorite armchair. He didn't think he could  _ be  _ any more comfortable or content. 

Except, that wasn't really true, was it? He frowned down at his book, glanced sideways at his tea, and grumbled something unintelligible in the general direction of the crackling fire. No, something was missing. Something far more important to his happiness and well-being than any number of books, amount of caffeine, or quantity of cozy warm rooms. 

With a bit of a huff Aziraphale dropped his book back down next to his mug on the table and went off in search of his demon. 

He went to the bedroom first, certain he would find Crowley snoring away, a tangle of sheets and limbs that could barely be distinguished as a (vaguely) man(-shaped being). To his surprise, he found the bed empty (though not made, he noticed with a raised eyebrow). 

Next he checked the bathroom. Crowley was terribly fond of hot baths (he'd vehemently deny his over-abundant use of bubble-bath, but Aziraphale had noticed that he was running out of his favorite formula three times as quickly as before the demon had taken to staying at the shop more nights than not). The angel rapped gently on the door before pushing it slowly open, but found the bathtub as empty as the bedroom. 

The third place he went was the kitchen. Perhaps Crowley had managed to sneak downstairs without his noticing and was sipping a cup of overly-strong coffee whilst flipping through the news on his mobile phone? 

No, he wasn't there either. 

Now Aziraphale was beginning to frown in earnest. He knew the demon had been here earlier, because he'd been able to hear the snoring even from the shop proper. It didn't seem likely that he'd sneaked off without saying goodbye, and where would he have even gone in this weather? Certain that Crowley had to be here somewhere, Aziraphale moved to the shop windows and confirmed that the Bentley was still sitting in its illegal parking space, practically buried to the roof in snow. 

"Where  _ are _ you, you silly demon?" the angel grumbled, turning back to wander the shop at random. 

It was near the classic children's books he heard the little noise. It was soft, barley noticeable, but strikingly recognizable as something blunt hitting glass. It happened again. Then again. Aziraphale followed the sounds, both for the pure curiosity and because he was fairly certain he was about to find what he sought. 

At the far corner window, where the wind hadn't been pressing layers of snow directly to the glass, there was a mostly-clear view of the world outside the bookshop. And wiggling in front of that window was a five-foot-long black snake, it's red underbelly shimmering in the early morning sun. The beautiful creature had wriggled its way halfway up the length of the window and, with wide amber eyes unblinking, was booping its nose against the glass as the snowflakes fell close by. 

"Oh good Lord," Aziraphale muttered, though a smile that could have easily been mistaken for amusement had spread across his face. 

The angel advanced on the snake, who seemed thoroughly distracted by the falling flakes and didn't so much as glance away. "Aren't you just precious?" Aziraphale cooed while running soft fingers down lovely, smooth scales. "You're oddly obsessed with snow for a demon who can't stand the cold. A walking contradiction, you are, you know that, right?"

Crowley didn't respond, except to bop his snout against the window again as a particularly fat snowflake fell in front of his face. Aziraphale couldn't stop the burst of joyous laughter that bubbled up from deep down in his stomach. 

It seemed the angel found himself in a bit of a predicament. He very much wished to pick up his lovely, charming, gorgeous snake and carry him to the back room, so that Crowley could coil up on his lap and Aziraphale could stroke the demon's scales as he read by the fire. But at the same time he wanted very much to allow the adorably excited snake to continue his game. Crowley had spent such a very long time feeling that he couldn't take joy in anything that wasn't  _ demonic _ ; Aziraphale, therefore, wanted to encourage the demon to have playful, childlike fun whenever he could. 

The snake booped the glass again, a bit too hard this time. He shook his head a little and seemed to finally notice Aziraphale. He blinked slowly at the angel before nuzzling his head against an outstretched hand. 

"Were you having fun, my dear?" the angel cooed as he stroked the snake's head lovingly. All at once, an idea came to him and he grinned. "But wouldn't it be more fun if you could actually  _ catch  _ the snowflakes?"

Crowley's head nuzzled sideways past the angel's wrist so that he could blink amber eyes curiously upward.  _ Catch them?  _ his expression seemed to ask. 

A few moments later a snowed in angel was back in his favorite armchair, nestled down comfortably. There was a lovely fire burning in the hearth, keeping the room the perfect temperature and providing some truly exceptional ambience. His tea - miracled hot again - sat on the side table, steam wafting up in little, wispy rivulets. His book was leaning against the arm of the chair, held open by one well-manicured hand, while the other hand happily stroked gorgeous black and red scales. 

And the snake to whom those scales belonged bobbed up and down playfully, booping his head against the fat, fluffy snowflakes that were falling onto him from a little pocket of displaced space that his angel had conjured into being above them. 

An extremely frivolous use of a miracle? Oh, absolutely. But as Aziraphale's attention split between the perfect little snow day set up he'd built for himself and the absolute delight radiating from his demon, the angel found that it was absolutely well worth it.


End file.
